


As the World Falls Down

by lily_l_bell



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Faery World, Gay Keith (Voltron), Labyrinth AU, Lance is flirty, Lots of references to a midsummer night's dream, M/M, References to Shakespeare, Tags to be added as fic progresses, The sidhe - Freeform, The violence chills a bit once in Underground, Underground, artwork portraying orgies, tw violence, unreasonable punishments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:37:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7964533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lily_l_bell/pseuds/lily_l_bell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keith is miserable in the foster system. He's just trying to survive the last day of being seventeen so he can leave the unhappy home he's in. A fight drives him from his home and into a ring of mushrooms. His mother always said wishes made in such a place would come true. He'd never actually believed that wishing for a faery to take him away would or could happen! Now that he is in the land of Underground will he manage to get himself back home before he's trapped there forever?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Lost and the Lonely

**Author's Note:**

> So [ rag-doll-witch on tumblr ](http://rag-doll-witch.tumblr.com/) got me started on another au! First chapter's reallt short! Sorry! Ch 2 is coming real soon!
> 
> Shout out to my beta [ Youareunbearable on tumblr! ](http://youareunbearable.tumblr.com/) She's the only thing stopping this place from looking like a midden heap!

People always said blood had a metallic taste but Keith wasn’t sure if he believed them, especially now with his lip torn. He couldn’t really care about that right now. The hours just couldn’t tick by fast enough. He sat on a soft mossy tuffet, gazing at the dewy mushrooms as he thought back on the instances that had found him here.

Were Keith going to bet when his life began to suck nine kinds of ass he would probably place it on the day his mother, his only relative and friend in the whole world, died and leaving him to be bundled off to foster family after foster family. He couldn’t really blame her for dying. It’s not like she meant it or anything. When he was younger he’d wished there’d been a way to blame her or stay mad but he had grown and matured… somewhat… since then. Frankly it wasn’t even a matter of living with a different family nearly every year or two and being completely unsettled. He was okay with wandering anyway. That in and of itself was not enough to have him staggering through the woods to sink to his knees in the moss at twilight. 

He still felt the rage and disgust bubbling under the surface. Keith had one day left, one day. Tomorrow was going to be his birthday. After midnight he’d be eighteen and he’d age out and he could just fucking leave whenever he was ready and no one would make him go back or take him to any group homes. Maybe he didn’t have anywhere else to go but he literally couldn’t stay there too much longer. He’d decided weeks ago that on his birthday he’d start making his plans to leave. So why couldn’t he just be able to spend his last day forced to be with his foster family alone in the room he had to share with his disgusting foster brother Eugene, but, you know, without fucking Gene? 

This year’s model of foster family was one of those hyper religious pairs that believed in self discipline and rigid control. The system had probably thought they’d be a good fit for Keith, who had a ‘habit’ of running away from home. He was seen as uncontrolled, willful, and lacking in discipline. Of course a good, wholesome, devout christian family could turn that around for him before he had to enter the world as an adult, right? Yeah, except that it meant Keith had to adhere to unreasonable expectations. Frequent punishments for his failures to heed his foster parents (Failing to heed apparently included back talking or being late home or whatever they felt) was to spend time kneeling and repeating passages from an old ass book that he really didn’t believe in. The reading wasn’t a bad thing, and while the kneeling did cramp his legs up sometimes, the worst part was that often these prayer based discipline sessions usually took place during dinner and so his ‘willful’ behavior had earned him going to bed hungry rather often. Yet today he would rather fast the entire day and kneel for half it than be left alone with Gene… again. 

Gene knew something about him that he rather his foster parents not know. One of those things that would have found him bundled off to Costa Rica for some correctional therapy. Gene was one of those sociologically interesting cases of a guy who believed that homosexuality was a sin, that homosexuals were disgusting perverts and yet had barely concealed homosexual tendencies himself that he somehow probably blamed on sharing a room with Keith. See? Yeah, definitely a case study. Gene wasn’t necessarily the worst guy Keith had ever met, but he had a nasty, entitled personality and it just made his presence abrasive. Keith had figured after his foster parents left for work he’d be safe to just lay on his bed with his book until the wee hours and when he woke up he could start looking around for ways to get out of this hell-hole. 

Just hours before his current predicament he had been laying on his bed, a worn copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ propped up on his chest. His mother had been very fond of it, but she had always called it by its original title _Alice Underground_. He’d probably read it too much because he knew large parts of it by heart. He liked Alice, she was a level-headed child even when faced by ridiculousness... He related to her. She had just gotten to the part where the Dodo leads them on a race to dry off when Gene burst in and started talking. Keith was aware of his existence and his shuffling around their shared room, but he didn't pay attention to what he was saying. Gene’s prattling was just background noise and Alice's run was far more relevant to Keith's life that anything Gene thought.

Apparently Gene had been speaking to him not around him because the taller boy angrily slapped his hand down on the book, digging the hardcover into Keith’s chest and slightly winding him in surprise. “You’re fucking ignoring me!” Gene accused, hurt and anger in his eyes. “I got your attention now Queef!?”

Keith just rubbed to the tender spot on his torso. “Gene, what the fuck? You’d know how to treat a book if you’d ever learned to read. It's okay, I understand, it must be too dark to read with your head so far up your ass.” He probably shouldn't have been baiting Gene. It was kind of begging to get into a fist fight. Keith _**welcomed**_ the idea; he’d been in enough fist fights growing up that he knew Gene’s bulk still wouldn't tip the scales in the asshole’s favor. Gene could never recover, not even from a mediocre burn, and so Keith was not at all shocked that Gene’s face turned bright red and his entire posture threatening. “At least I’m not a fag!” Ah, yes, the best Gene could muster up to try to wound Keith. Here’s the thing though, Keith actually was gay. He didn’t want to flaunt it to his foster parents mostly because he’d never be allowed to stop kneeling and praying, not for any sense of shame or disgust. He was fine with his ‘homosexual proclivities’ but Gene was not accepting of his own. Keith would probably be more understanding that Gene was pretty much brainwashed into self hatred (it didn’t take someone with a PHD to tell that it was probably why he projected his torment on Keith) if not for the fact that Gene was also a giant tool. Keith should have known better than to poke at that specific insecurity but Gene had manhandled his favorite book and so Keith was feeling particularly venomous.

“Gene, real talk for you. Calling me a fag is not a good insult. It’s never going to hurt my feelings or impress me. I’m not the one lying to myself, okay? If you got the stick outta your ass you’d have some room to fit a dick up there and maybe it’d chill you the fuck out.” Keith intoned his verbal mic drop and snatched up his book again as he rolled over onto his belly. He refused to look at Gene. Had he looked he’d have maybe caught the dangerous glint in his eyes.

“What?” The other boy seethed.

“I know you’re gay too, Gene. It’s not the end of the world.” Keith droned, already having lost interest in the conversation as he turned a page. He was once again committed to absolutely ignoring the other boy. This was a sever tactical error on his part. He'd gone from satisfaction at having won some stupid argument to fearing for his life in a matter of seconds. Gene had pounced him and began throttling him right there on the bed. The sudden jolt smacked his face into the headboard and split his lip. Gene’s weight on his back meant he couldn't roll over, leaving punching or kicking an awkward struggle. He felt hands clutch around his throat and squeeze. Gene was yelling incoherently in his rage. Unable to take in air Keith clawed at the fingers around his neck desperately but they did not budge. Just as he was becoming light headed he reached out to his bedside table, groping for something, _ANYTHING_ to hit Gene with and make him let go. Keith wished his pocket knife were there, rather than in his back pocket. His fingers closed around something long and thin. A pencil. At this point beggars couldn't be choosers. He used all his strength to drive the pointed end into Gene’s forearm. The larger boy howled in pain, letting Keith go and throwing himself off balance as he went to pull the pencil out. Gulping air Keith took his chance, bucking himself up and tossing Gene to the side. The assailant’s head cracked against the wall, denting the drywall and blessedly knocking him out. 

Keith scrambled for freedom. He didn't know how long Gene would be out and he was not going to be dumb enough for a rematch. Keeping his knife at hand he stuffed his book and meager sentimental belongings into his backpack. Thank god he'd moved them all to one drawer in anticipation of his inevitable departure, now it seemed he was going to leave earlier than expected. He did all of this at a dead run, pausing only long enough to stomp into his boots and pull his jacket on. (Hurry or not, October’s cold as fuck.) Dashing out the back door he b-lined it through several neighbor's yards, jumped a couple fences, and dodged a share of dogs before ducking into the safety of the woods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this work, why not visit me on tumblr, [ I'm LadyGreyfist. ](http://ladygreyfist.tumblr.com/) I reblog a lot of Klance stuff and create plenty of art of my own to contribute to the fandom. I'd love to hear from some of you there if you can't comment here and would like to let me know something about one of my works! Thank you.


	2. Down in the Underground

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to keep chapters short and manageable for quick reading purposes!
> 
> This chapter was heavily fixed my beta [ Youareunbearable on tumblr! ](http://youareunbearable.tumblr.com/) This wouldn't be nearly as good a read without her work!

The woods had always given Keith a sense of security. The local brewery owned all the land, legally, but used very little of it so they made most of the space a preservation of sort for the local wildlife. This also meant that the woods were especially quiet and lonely, making it the perfect hideaway. No one usually went looking for him there, but this time he had actually stabbed Gene and left him unconscious, then fled like a thief in the night. Surely his former foster family would be rallying for his capture and arrest by now! He didn't need to go to jail only seventeen hours before he could be tried as an adult! Adrenaline was still coursing through him as he charged through the underbrush. He wanted to get as deep in as he could! Be as hard to find as he could! However he did ultimately trip over some roots, his stomach hitting the ground hard and stirring his lip to bleeding again. Exhausted, he decided to stop for a bit and catch his breath. When he pushed himself back up he realized he'd fallen into a small, circular clearing ringed by fat, dewy mushrooms. No brambles passes the mushroom barricade and in the interior was nothing but soft moss. It was good a place as any.

This brought him back to his present and his predicament. He’d sat there a few hours, the bleeding on his face having crusted over long ago. Keith observed the mushrooms again and, frustratingly enough, began to cry. 

Mushrooms in and of themselves were not worth crying over but his life since his mother died had sucked. Burring his palms into his eyes in a weak attempt to try and stop the tears he shook. His life was practically over; he couldn’t go back “home” as he was probably going to go to jail now, and he had nothing to his name besides anything in his backpack and the very clothes on his back. Taking a big shaky breath, Keith pulled his hands away to stare blankly at the mushrooms again, suddenly remembering something his mother told him a long time ago.

He remembered walking through another wood, hand in hand with his mom while she would sing folk songs about children being whisked away by faeries. How these fairies had been the good kind, who would lead these children into their realm and homes because the world was full of too much weeping for the child to be left alone. He gave a self deprecating snort, this was something he could certainly understand now.

His mom had a fascination with faeries and their mythology. She would tell him made up stories about a Faery King that lived in a place called Underground, who liked to spirit away pretty girls and make them fall in love with him by putting the nectar of a flower in their eyes or in their food, the story changed sometimes depending on the tale. However, if they ever broke the spell they would be dragged back home into the human world and find an unreasonable amount of time had passed, never able to find their way back to Underground. Keith now thought she’d probably been mixing _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ and _Rip VanWinkle_. However, one of the things he had remembered most fondly was when she told him that rings of mushrooms, violets, daisies, ect represented a place where a faery had danced and those were magical places where wishes could come true. Taking a deep breath he dragged his hand down his face. 

He missed his mom so much. 

_“Come away, O’ Human child.”_

He missed her whimsical heart. 

_“To the waters and the wilds.”_

He missed when he too believed that wishes made in a ring of mushrooms would come true.

_“With a faery hand-in-hand.”_

He actually wished they would. He wished he could be taken far away from this place and this trouble at any cost, there was nothing left for him here anyway.

_“For the world’s more full of weeping,”_

He missed believing in the Underground to the point where it felt like a real place where he could go.

_“Than you will ever understand.”_

If his mom were here she’d be sitting behind him, holding him, and whispering in his ear that it was nearly his birthday. She’d say this was lucky that they found the ring, so he’d be allowed to make his birthday wish early. He just sighed ruefully, “I wish…” He mumbled, the air around him becoming still, silent and crisp. “I wish that a faery really would just take me away from here. I don’t want to come back to this place. I don’t want to be alone anymore.” His voice broke, pulling his knees up to his chest, ‘I want my mother,’ he added to himself, pressing his forehead into his knees and feeling his eyes prick with the start of tears again. 

Suddenly, in a burst of feathers and an unexpected gale a blue-black magpie crowded around him, startling him out of his self pity. He raised his hands against the beating wings to keep the bird from pecking at or clawing him, but it never happened. The wind died down and all that remained of the bird was the blue-black feathers drifting around him. He would’ve wondered what happened to it if he hadn’t noticed the being draped in gauzey, diaphanous fabric standing in the center of the mushroom ring. Panicked, he stood and glanced around to make sure there were no other people that had snuck up on him, and saw that the woods around them vanished and were replaced with a cleared field surrounding a wall, all bathed in twilight. The figure wore a parchment-colored mask with a wide, painted grin and sheer, black fabric in the holes shaped like smiling eyes. 

“What the fuck who are you where am I what the fuck!?” Keith nearly snarled and on the defensive, he scrambled away from the figure, desperate to put distance between them and himself. The being cocked its head, the gauze of it’s… body (was there a body under all those layers of translucent cloth?) floated as though suspended underwater, making the hair on the back of Keith’s neck rise and gooseflesh crawl down his arms. 

“Be not afraid.” It chimed. It sounded like several male and female voices talking at once. “I have fulfilled your wish. I have brought you to Underground.” It’s voices was proud. “I have desired to bring you here for a long time but could not until you willed it.” The masked face drifted closer. The movement was too smooth, too eerie and unnatural, there couldn’t have been a body under there. The head floated like it was a fish in still water, and Keith found his hand drifting to his knife in his back pocket. “As for who I am, I am Goodfellow. I have brought you here to swear loyalty to the Lord of the Twilight so that his court may be complete when he joins with the Lady of the Dawn.” It seemed to flutter a little, as though pleased.

“Um. No. Goodfellow? There’s some mistake. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t wish to actually be brought here.” Keith licked his lips. “I’m human. I need to go back.” The strips of fabric now fluttered like a jelly fish. 

_“You did. You did. You wished. You wished.”_ It hissed and whispered, cocking it’s head and repeating back Keith’s voice as he wished to be taken away, making him flinch at how weird it was to hear his voice come out of that… being. He had very clearly used the words ‘I wish.’ Keith gritted his teeth, “I didn’t believe it would come true.” 

“Hope is enough.”

Keith saw this was going to be futile. “Look, you’re a faery, right?”

Those empty eyes stared at him for too long before whispering softly, “Yes.” Good. He squared his shoulders, trying his hardest to look sure of himself and not freaked out in the slightest. “Then you have to let me earn my way back home. So. What do you want?” He asked grinding his teeth at the end, but speaking clearly. According to stories his mom told him, and from other books he’s read, faeries always wanted something. He was not expecting the answer he received, thought. 

Goodfellow curled, his fabric yellowing into a rich gold until he resembled a chrysanthemum. “You.” It purred making the gooseflesh come back full force. “I want you to stay. It is my purpose. I was told to bring you here when you willed it, not send you back. I don’t have that power.” Bullshit, Keith glared. Faeries had all sorts of power but they were silly, ephemeral things. All the stories said you had to get them at their own games.

“If you don’t, then who does?” Keith snapped, crossing his arms and tapping his foot in the best imitation of his foster-mother demanding to speak to someone’s manager. Goodfellow seemed to deflate, turning a powder blue and shirking back. “The Lord of the Twilight could have such power and authority. However, you must pass through the Labyrinth to get to his castle in the center.” It seemed sad. Poor simple creature if it didn’t set his hair on edge and basically kidnapped him he would feel sorry for it.

It trailed behind Keith as he walked towards the high wall, hoping to find a way into this “Labyrinth”. There was no entrance in his immediate sight. “Well, thank the stars time is messed up between our worlds, Goodfellow. Maybe by the time I get home I won’t be in trouble anymore,” The one good thing to happen to him in a long time, he thought to himself with a snort. Goodfellow, however, just hovered over him, hesitant, as though it wanted to speak. 

“Only after some time.” it began, the many voices hushed. “The wish that brought you here must be broken soon if you are to return. Your body will adjust and you will belong here after a short period of time, and then won’t be able to be returned.” It explained, gentle tendrils brushed the boy’s arms, as though trying to be comforting. Keith felt his stomach drop into his shoes at the news and his skin prickle at the touch. “How soon?” he whispered.

Goodfellow slowly shifted its gaze to the face of a grandfather clock molded into the hollow of a large nearby tree. “Thirteen hours.” It sighed, the voices sounding sad, disappointed and, worried all at once. “You may not be able to reach the throne room in that time.”

“But I could?”

“Possibly.”

“Then I will give it a try anyway.”

“You could surrender. You could choose to stay here. _Wish of me. Wish of me. Wish of me._ ” It nearly begged, the strips of fabric caressing his face and shoulders lovingly, running over the split in his lip. Keith jumped as he felt the sharp pain of it vanish. Goodfellow’s touch was not predatory or even sexual; as odd and creepy as it looked Keith, was suddenly enveloped with this knowledge that it wouldn’t hurt him. “I would help you. I fixed your lip. If you promise to stay and to swear to the Lord of the Twilight I will guide you through the Labyrinth. Stay. Stay. Stay. That was my duty, when it is fulfilled I am free.” It explained, the voices pleading, begging. Keith gently batted the touchy bits of tulle away, he didn’t want to be rough with Goodfellow. 

“I’m sorry,” and he really was, “I appreciate your offer of help, but I’ve got to try to get back to my world first.” He wasn’t going to promise Goodfellow that he would swear to this Lord or whatever and then back out on it. According to his mom’s stories, that would call down some serious faery wrath on his head. “If I don’t make it there in thirteen hours, yeah, I guess I’ll swear to your Lord because I’ll have nothing else for me here in the Underground. But I’m not going to surrender to someone I don’t know just because the alternative is a little difficult. I’ll try to stay a free man first. Thanks for being willing to help though.” Keith tried to give it a little pat, but he wasn’t all that sure he actually touched it or his hand passed through it a little. “You can go now, Goodfellow. I’ll be fine.” The creature really did seem hurt and sad. It floated away over the wall and out of sight, probably headed back to the castle. As creepy as it was, it’d been company. Keith suddenly felt himself feeling very alone. With a sigh he started marching along the perimeter of the wall, looking for the entrance to this god forsaken maze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this work, why not visit me on tumblr, [ I'm LadyGreyfist. ](http://ladygreyfist.tumblr.com/) I reblog a lot of Klance stuff and create plenty of art of my own to contribute to the fandom. I'd love to hear from some of you there if you can't comment here and would like to let me know something about one of my works! Thank you.
> 
> Here's some art for this chapter, Goodfellow healing Keith's split lip.
> 
> [](http://s3.photobucket.com/user/Lily_Bell/media/robingoodfellow.png.html)  
> 


	3. Into the Labyrinth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith meets a salacious magpie who offers to guide him through the Labyrinth... for a price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a little longer. I tend to drag my feet with transcribing from hand-written to digital format. I swear to god this apprentice work.
> 
> Thanks again to my beta [ Youareunbearable on tumblr! ](http://youareunbearable.tumblr.com/) This wouldn't be possible for the audience without Baby Bear's help.

The wall around the Labyrinth was frustratingly gigantic. One would think that it would have openings closer together. This proved to not be the case because by the time Keith finally stumbled across the first entrance, nearly an hour later, he felt ready to bite the heads off of nails. The doors to the Labyrinth were each bigger than a house, banded in silver and gold and carved with elaborate relief art of revelers dancing, drinking and… oh wow there was some pretty explicit stuff carved into them holy crow. Oh yep, faeries didn’t seem to care what your sex was. Some even seemed to have all the bits. If this art was anything to go by the ‘folk beneath the hills’ could be friendly in more ways than one… or two… or well… shit he couldn’t stare at this any longer. Blushing Keith scrubbed as his cheek with his sleeve as though it would wipe away the hot spots coloring them. 

A chittering caw caught his attention in the ivy crawling up the doors above his head. Peering up he saw a huge magpie sitting in the twisted vines, clicking at him in a way that sounded like a laugh. “What’re you looking at?” Keith scowled. The bird continued to chatter at him as it hopped from spot to spot, clipping the ivy with its beak. Keith watched it go for a minute or two and realized it was grooming the ivy, which was as much a part of the artwork as the gold and the… bodies. “You’re a faery too.” He clicked his tongue. “Hey! Hey can you come down here? Do you speak?” He asked, waving a hand to it. The bird turned his head to him again, this time Keith noticed it had bright blue eyes. That was a little startling. Magpies and crows usually had black eyes but then again if this was a faery bird it could look anyway it wanted. 

“Of course I can talk.” It croaked at him, beating its wings as it dropped from its lofty perch. Before it could hit the ground the feathers seemed to fall away, leaving a long, thin man to fall the remaining meter or so and land on his feet. “And I was looking at you.” The man’s dark face split into a wide grin. He was spindly like an ostrich and his face, despite no longer having a beak, had a pointed and sharp quality to it. While he was clearly now a man in a long blue coat, these features (and the odd feathers framing his face) kept his bird-like aesthetic. “You seemed a little startled by the door. I’m guessing extravagant orgies aren’t your thing?” He teased, bending over to begin picking up the clippings that had fallen to the ground from his work.

“No, not my thing. Not at all.” Keith stammered a bit. How could this guy be so chill when his head was only a foot away from a carving of three people doing something that was probably only named on Urban Dictionary? “Look. I was wondering if you know how to get that door open? I need to go inside.” Keith explained, trying to contain his impatience as best he could. 

The man never paused in his work, just kept moving as he spoke. “Why would you want to go in there of all places? The Labyrinth is where rejects and screw ups go so that no one has to look at them anymore. We’re sent here to be forgotten. Isn’t there somewhere nicer you’d like to go? A pretty thing like you?” For a bird the man sure could grin luridly like a cheshire cat. Keith did not have the time or patience for this. He very quickly explained his situation to the gardener and stressed in no uncertain terms how important that it was that he go through. He had to get to the castle and get this Lord of the Twilight to send him back to Earth. He was a human after all and just simply didn’t belong in this world of whimsy and ridiculousness. Was this what Alice felt like when she fell through the rabbit hole? The bird-man certainly looked like he could have stepped out of one of those old illustrations.

The magpie worked as he listened and when Keith wrapped up so did the gardener. The tall fellow rested his chin on his fist and eyed Keith as though weighing him on a scale. “Okay. Yes. I see your point. My goodness your will is nearly overpowering. I don’t doubt for a minute that you could convince even the Lord of the Twilight to help you… If you get to him before you become part of the Underground yourself. I’m Lance by the way, thank you for asking.” The gardener said smugly as he pulled a large ring of keys from his belt and began fingering through it. Keith colored again, he hadn’t asked. “Um. I’m Keith.” He replied. “Are you going to let me in?”

“I’m not counting keys because I want to.” Lance quipped. “I’ll let you in, but if I’m going to be honest, and let’s face it, I have no choice, I don’t think you’re going to be able to reach the castle all by yourself in twelve hours. You’re from the surface and the only faery you met so far is Goodfellow, you said? Yeah. It’s not a good representation of Faery-Kind.” Lance wrinkled his nose at even saying the creature’s name. For some reason that bothered Keith a little. Sure, Goodfellow was unsettling to look at but it had been nice in its own way too. Maybe Keith just didn’t like the idea of someone talking shit about something that obviously couldn’t stand up for itself. Or, in some dark, lonely little corner of his brain he had secretly missed someone, or even some _thing_ apparently, giving him the idea that he could be valued or wanted or maybe even loved (in so far as a creature like Goodfellow could love anyway.) Lance seemed to finally find the key he was looking for and proceeded to struggle with getting it into the heavy lock. 

“Goodfellow is barely a faery. It’s more like… like an idea that has some kind of physical presence. I mean, it’s not even a THEY anymore. It’s an _**it**_. Being sent to the Labyrinth wasn’t punishment enough, it had its _Self_ taken away.” Lance’s whole body shivered at the thought as he forced the lock open. “I’d hate to be Goodfellow.” 

Keith felt his stomach drop as Lance pulled open a smaller door that had been hidden in among the carvings. So the Labyrinth was some kind if weird faery prison or something? And he was going to have to figure out how to pass through it, by himself, in less than twelve hours. He had to try, he had to, but it was all feeling kind of hopeless. He fidgeted with the zipper of his jacket and peered over at Lance. “Have you ever been to the castle?” He asked, hesitantly. 

Lance quirked a thin brow at him and rested his elbow on the open door. “Of course I have. I’m a servant of The Lord of the Twilight, so I do have to go there from time to time to find out where he wants me to be and what he wants me to do when I get there. Why do you ask? Looking for a hint?” The dark blue-black feathers on the sides of his face quivered as he winked at Keith. The human boy licked his lips, he had been about to ask for some directions but now wanted to say no just on principle because he’d been caught. He wasn’t allowed to war with himself over it for long before Lance smiled at him again. “Okay, no. You don’t have to answer. Yes, I know a way there. The Labyrinth shifts though, so I don’t think verbal directions would be much help. If you pay me for my time, I might show you a way.” Keith would have thought those half lidded eyes looked lazy if not for the mischievous light in them.

Keith hoped he’d live to regret this decision, “What do you want?” He asked warily, raising a brow but still approaching the door and following behind Lance. He had to go in anyway, whether he could buy Lance’s guidance or not. The gardner just grinned at him. “I want two things from you.” He clucked, holding up two narrow fingers and flitting away beside Keith, far too close for comfort. “I don’t want them right now, so don’t worry. But I want a favor and a kiss.” 

Keith stumbled over thin air and felt like all the blood in his body had rushed to his face. “A k-kiss? And what kind of favor!?” He stammered, looking over his shoulder at his odd companion incredulously. He didn’t want to have to do anything gross with this guy! 

Lance just snatched the back of his jacket and pushed him along down the corridor towards the first turn. “You’re in a hurry.” Lance reminded. “When we get to the castle I just want one kiss, because you’re pretty and I’d like to have one before you go. Simple as that.” Keith was absolutely flummoxed and indignant! Pretty!? He was not **PRETTY!** He was a boy, damnit, if he was anything he was handsome! He was being called pretty by a glorified crow! What the fuck!? “As for the favor,” Lance continued, “I don’t know what it’ll be yet. I’m banking it. Stop looking like you’re going to break into a sweat, Pretty. I wouldn’t ask you to do anything dirty.” Based on that grin Keith highly fucking doubted that. Lance looked perpetually ready to flirt, his entire air was preening and way too vain for a servant. Maybe he’d been very important before he’d been sent to the Labyrinth; he had said that the place was a punishment for people who messed up. Whatever Goodfellow had done he’d gotten his personhood taken away. Lance didn’t seem very demure so obviously his punishment wasn’t for being arrogant. 

“Why should I believe that?” Keith snorted, pulling his jacket tight around him. He didn’t want to be traveling through a maze with some disgusting creep. Lance paused at the first fork, grinned at him and jumped into the air. In the blink of an eye he was a magpie again, fluttering through the air above the walls of the maze. Circling and swooping until he landed on a gnarled tree limb. “Because,” He cawed, still shaped like an enormous corvid. “My punishment is to speak no word that is not true. If I say, very clearly, that I will or won’t do something it’s pretty safe to say I’m stuck to it.” He leapt down from the branch, twisting back into the shape of a man and tugging Keith’s elbow in the direction for them to go.

“What did you do to get that kind of punishment?” Keith grumbled, pulling his elbow free and tugging the wrinkle out of his jacket. He’d asked it before his brain could remind him that it could possibly have come off rude, and by the side eyeing look Lance gave him he quickly assessed that it was. Keith was about to muster up the best apology he could for the snotty crow (which ultimately probably wouldn’t have been very good but he’d try) when Lance waved a hand dismissively.

“I lost a flower.” 

That was probably the dumbest thing Keith had ever heard. If Lance was telling the truth, and he likely was if he was cursed to not lie, than it was an absolutely ridiculous punishment. To the point where Keith felt he had to make sure it was known. “You were banished and had your ability to lie taken away because you lost a friggen flower? Was it made of diamonds?” He snarked. 

Lance just shrugged. “No.” Was the simple answer. “But it was still a pretty important flower.” Bringing up his punishment seem to push the taller man into introspection. He alternated between shuffling about, hip to hip with Keith, and being shaped like a bird to flit from outcropping and dry branches. He often checked that the way was right by circling overhead. They had to repeat this ritual at nearly every bend and it was infuriatingly slow but Keith suppose it was better than running willy-nilly through.

Okay. No. To be fair Lance had absentmindedly noticed his impatience and reminded him, from the safety of a high wall, that it was better than running willy-nilly. The Gardener was, logically, right but it didn't quell how antsy Keith felt to keep moving. He was ultimately useless while he stood in the crossways, eyes following the black speck that was Lance.

The faery must have had very sharp eyes because despite how high he flew he seemed to always come right back to Keith (even when impatience drove him to select a path without consulting his guide.) One of the times he went off without Lance the magpie had come barreling out of the sky, beating his wings furiously and clumsily only to land on the top of Keith’s head and stare at him, eye to eye, although Lance's head was upside down. Keith froze dead in his tracks with that beak in his face, feeling his eyes going crossed. 

“Where do you think you're going!?” Lance literally squawked like an indignant chicken, fluttering his wings in agitation which ruffled Keith’s hair.

Keith justified, “I saw you flying around to the right. So I figured we were going to head that way.” Keith use one finger to push the beak far enough from his face so he could see straight again and proceeded down the corridor. “Was I wrong?” He asked, in case he needed to turn around. He wasn't sure if Lance would become passive aggressive and let him walk in the wrong direction for a while as punishment.

The blue black feathers around the corvid’s neck had puffed up, revealing his foul temper. He paused for too long, his beak wide open and only a throaty clicking sound coming out before he flapped his wings once more in frustration, got his head out of his line of sight and seemed to settle down to roost on the top of Keith’s head. The pissiest crown a man could ever wear. “I wanted to tell you that you were wrong just to spite you. Bloody curse.” Keith didn't know a bird could take a spitting-mad tone. “Honestly, this _happens_ to be the right way. Don't assume that where I'm flying is right, though, you little featherbrained chick.” 

Keith would have knocked him off but he then felt Lance begin preening at his hair, fixing the mess he'd made with his wings while landing. “Because you're checking for dead ends?” Keith supplied, wanting to get Lance off the topic of ‘featherbrained chick.’ Lance plucked a leaf out of Keith's hair and tossed it away in disgust. “Not just.” The magpie clicked. “The Labyrinth is a dangerous place. I'm trying to keep you out of trouble.” He explained, barely pausing in his nearly motherly grooming. “If I see trouble I'm trying to take you around it. Blood and salt Keith do you even own a comb?” 

Keith growled, “Don't treat me like a baby! I can handle plenty.” He informed, displaying his pocket knife. “Don't avoid it if it's faster to just go through.” Keith glowered, disentangling the bird as the novelty of being groomed had worn off. He shooed Lance away. “What were you even doing that for anyway?” He grumbled, feeling at his rearranged locks. Lance flittered just long enough to resettle Keith’s shoulder.

“We're on our way to see the Lord of the Twilight, Sparkle-Eyes.” Lance cooed affectionately, going so far as to mimic the soft dove call. “Don't you want to look pretty for your audience with the King?”

Keith actually gave zero fucks about looking pretty for anyone, least of all some king who ordered him to be kidnapped. He made sure to let Lance know this. What was the point? This King was obviously some douche if he ruled over faery prison and doled out curses like what happened to poor Goodfellow, or even punishments like Lance’s! For something like losing a flower! He was a gardener! Couldn't he just be allowed to grow more? This place was completely unreasonable and the man In charge probably was as well.

Lance just jumped down and turned back into a man. “Then look pretty for me.” He winked and even found it in himself to sound like he was asking nicely. “If I'm going to have to look at your sour puss the whole way you could at least stop looking like a cat.” That was clearly supposed to be a dig at Keith's demeanor, if rather an odd one. The shorter boy tucked his knife back in his pocket so as not to be tempted to use it. “The Lord of the Twilight is actually a very good master; the best and most generous I've ever served. As bringing you to the castle has become my job I won't be letting you head in looking like a ragamuffin. Trust in me, I know what I'm doing. I'm a magpie. I'm a lover of beautiful things.” Lance was way too grandiose for a servant. No wonder he was cursed to be unable to lie, he could polish the turds out of the truth until it sounded like an exaggeration so Keith couldn't begin to imagine what kind of lies he could spin.

The pair step into a wide courtyard, filled with groomed planters and bubbling fountains. It was almost startling how quickly the place could go from looking desolate and abandoned to clean and cared for, but it wasn't nearly as unsettling as looking behind himself to find that the archway that they had entered from had vanished, being replaced with a solid wall of his hedges. It seemed like the Labyrinth of this area was sick, thorny bushes rather than brick and mortar. Not allowing him to fret about the sudden changes in the Labyrinth’s layout, Lance beckoned him over to one of the fountains. He explained that freshwater was not always easy to find in The Labyrinth and even if water looked clear Keith ought be careful. He was not of the Underground yet, (he never intended to be) so food and drink could have unexpected effect on his human body. Lance assured him the water of these fountains was safe and pestered him like a nagging brother until Keith took a long drink just to shut him up. Had he really felt bad about Lance being silent and stilted earlier?

Lance was cupping handfuls of water to his mouth as well when the sound of a nearby horn made his eyes pop. The clamor of armored feet rattling on the paving stones several hedge walls over made his dark head swivel.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” Lance hissed in panic, crowding Keith into the corner behind a waist-high hedge wall and crouching down beside him where his throat released a quiet, high-pitched whine. “If anything happens to you I'll be dunked head-first into the Bog of Stench. The Lord will be furious with me.” Lance's whispering voice cracked, on the verge of hysteria.

“Why are you freaking out!?” Keith hissed scornfully, not very pleased about Lance’s hand on his shoulder, applying pressure and keeping him crouched low. 

“People fight over the fountains here. I didn't see any moving clans when I circled over just a little bit ago. I thought it was safe, but I fucked up.” The magpie whimpered. “Stay down and stay hidden. I'm going to watch them go and I'll be back when it's safe.” Lance ordered, shifting into a bird and flying off in the direction of the stomping boots leaving Keith alone in the courtyard.

Keith tried to listen to Lance's advice. He really did. He managed to heed for all of about three whole minutes. Until he heard a cry for help coming from the opposite direction Lance had flown. He's heard a small number of the metal boots scraping and the high-pitched, creepy cackling of the creatures that wore them. The cries for help were frantic, desperate and interspersed with crashing. Pulling his knife from his pocket Keith rushed around the corner, ready to help the poor soul being attacked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoy this work, why not visit me on tumblr, [ I'm LadyGreyfist. ](http://ladygreyfist.tumblr.com/) I reblog a lot of Klance stuff and create plenty of art of my own to contribute to the fandom. I'd love to hear from some of you there if you can't comment here and would like to let me know something about one of my works! I purposefully leave my ASK and Messanger open for that reason. Thank you. 
> 
> Here is chapter art, while it didn't play out like this in the chapter, what with Lance having still been a Magpie when he said those lines, I did want to draw the birb-glare scene as well as show what Lance looks like as a bird-man. Thank you for your patronage!
> 
>  
> 
> [](http://s3.photobucket.com/user/Lily_Bell/media/astheworldfallsdownch3%20copy.png.html)  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoy this work, why not visit me on tumblr, [ I'm LadyGreyfist. ](http://ladygreyfist.tumblr.com/) I reblog a lot of Klance stuff and create plenty of art of my own to contribute to the fandom. I'd love to hear from some of you there if you can't comment here and would like to let me know something about one of my works! Thank you.


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